


Headlights Shining in All Directons

by castielanderson



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Use, F/M, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Suicide Attempt, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanderson/pseuds/castielanderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes is drowning in self-hatred.  He's fucking Peggy Carter just for the hell of it, and refuses to admit to anyone that he's in love with his best friend, least of all himself.  One night, he goes overboard, attempting to solve all his problems with drugs and alcohol, and Steve lays it all out on the table - sober up, or lose him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Headlights Shining in All Directons

A deep-set feeling of unease bubbles in Bucky’s stomach as Peggy rolls away from him, lazy hand reaching over the side of the bed to find her panties.  He knows that this – what they’re doing, it isn’t right, but he’s so fucking miserable he doesn’t even care.  He’s as close to Steve as she’ll get, and he just wants something to look forward to.

 

He watches her dress, in awe of her body.  He really wishes he could enjoy it like he might have enjoyed other girls.  It really is a nice body – thin, but also curvy, smooth and soft.  And honestly, her tits are out of this goddamn world – but, he’s not interested in her, and she’s not interested in him, and this is all for some sick, twisted, inkling of pleasure.

 

Peggy deserves more.  Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve shit.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Peggy says sweetly, and she leans down to give Bucky a goodbye kiss.

 

She heads for the door.  Her hand and on the knob, Bucky calls out, “Remember – “

 

She turns to him and rolls her eyes.  “Keep this between us, I know.”

 

She leaves without another word, and Bucky repositions himself, lying on his back with his hands over his waist.  He knows he should at least put underwear on, but he’s too far gone to even move.  He just stares at the ceiling as the world grows dark around him.

 

_

 

In the morning, Bucky wakes up late.  He barely has enough time to throw on a pair of jeans and a maybe-clean T-shirt underneath his leather jacket before he’s rushing out of the house, a cigarette between his teeth.  He lights it on the way to school, and smushes it into the cement after he parks.

 

The bell rings the second Bucky steps into his first class, and Steve is shaking his head as Bucky slides into the seat behind him.  Their teacher glowers at him over the top of his glasses, but after Bucky reveals that he’s the first to finish their assigned novel, as well delivers a rousing and thought-provoking review, he lets the tardiness slide.

 

Steve and Bucky have no time to talk during their classes, and for that Bucky is grateful.  It’s getting harder and harder to stomach himself when Steve still speaks to him like he’s the greatest thing on Earth.

 

During lunch, Bucky ditches the cafeteria and joins Natasha on the bleachers for a smoke.  He sends a quick text to Steve that says, _on the bleachers today_ , and says nothing more.  As Bucky lights his second cigarette, Natasha elbows him.

 

"I hear you’re fucking Carter."

 

He inhales _wrong,_ and coughs hard into his palm.

 

"She _swore_ to me - “

 

"Please, James.  She didn’t tell me anything."

 

"Then how - "

 

"I have my ways, you know that."

 

Bucky throws his cigarette to the ground, feeling sick.  “Natasha, you better not fucking tell Steve.”

 

"I wouldn’t dream of it," she drawls.  She sticks the butt of her cigarette into the bleacher beside her.  "Are you going to Tony’s party tonight?"

 

Bucky rubs his left arm with his hand.  It’s force of habit now, granted that he can’t exactly feel the prosthetic.  “I don’t know,” he sighs.  “Do you know if Steve’s going?”

 

Natasha scoffs.  “Why does it matter if Steve’s going?  And why don’t _you_ know?”

 

"I want to get _wrecked_ ," Bucky replies simply, "but I don’t want Steve to witness that shit anymore."

 

"James - "

 

"Don’t worry about me, Nat," he says, looking away from her.

 

"Just don’t kill yourself."

 

He thinks about it sometimes - swallowing a whole bottle of Tylenol with a dash of anti-nausea pills, but he won’t.  He doesn’t have the guts.

 

"I can’t make any promises," is what Bucky wants to say, but instead he grumbles, "I won’t."

 

_

 

After school, Bucky tries his best to avoid Steve, but the bastard is one step ahead of him.  He’s waiting at Bucky’s locker, a peculiarly eager expression his face.  Bucky considers ducking out and leaving school without his textbooks, but Steve sees him before he gets the chance, smiling widely.  Shoes heavy, Bucky drags himself over to him.

 

"Hey, Buck," he says brightly.

 

Bucky swallows around the thickness of his throat, opening his locker.  “Hey, Steve.”

 

"You and Nat missed out during lunch.  Sam and I were talking about getting together tonight, and - "

 

"Nat and I are busy," Bucky interrupts, throwing the textbooks he needs into his bag.  He closes the door to his locker slowly, and his stomach clenches at the disappointed look on Steve’s face.  "But we could do something tomorrow?"

 

Steve doesn’t even seem to hear him.  “What are you doing tonight?” he asks like he already knows.

 

"Tony’s party."

 

Steve nods, pursing his lips together.  “Another one?”

 

Bucky shrugs.  “I mean - Tony’s got his own place.  Is it really a surprise he throws so many parties?”

 

"I’m not talking about Stark, I’m talking about you," Steve spits out, completely frustrated.

 

Bucky licks his lips, taking a step back.

 

"Last week it was Thor’s party, the week before that it was Clint’s usual smoking circle, and if you’re not with them you’re with anyone else getting high and forgetting about us."

 

"Steve," Bucky starts, feeling his heart shatter in his chest.  "This has nothing to do with you, please - "

 

"Really?  You’ve been ditching me a lot lately, Bucky," Steve says, driving the knife in Bucky’s chest deeper.  "Like, what’s so much better about drugs than spending time with me?"

 

Bucky looks up at him sharply, slightly confused.  “Steve, if this is about you not being okay with drugs - “

 

"This isn’t about drugs or alcohol, Bucky," Steve sighs.  "I have no problem drinking with you, and you know that.  And I don’t smoke because my lungs are shit.  Bucky, my problem is that you’re ditching me.”

 

Bucky sighs heavily, closing his eyes.  He wishes he could explain, wishes he could make Steve understand all the things stirring around inside him, all the horrible, nasty things that make him want to put a bullet through his head.  They have nothing to do with Steve, and only how terrible of a person Bucky sees in himself.  And he just - he can’t make Steve be around that, especially when Bucky’s nursing these ridiculous feelings for him.

 

"I’m sorry," Bucky says.   "Natasha asked me to go, and I - I just spaced.  I promise, Stevie - give me a day soon, and I’ll do whatever you want with you, okay?"

 

Steve crosses arms, but thankfully, mutters, “Fine.”

 

Bucky gives Steve a pat on the shoulder.  “Thanks, pal.  I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”  He leaves without another word, desperately wishing Tony’s party started four hours earlier so he could start drinking now.

 

_

 

Tony Stark is popular, but not popular in the traditional way.   He’s small and a certified genius.  He’s bisexual, and widely inappropriate with everyone as the result of embracing all the horrible things people said about him, daring to make it true.  But he throws parties and sells drugs and Bucky’s pretty sure Steve’s in love with him, so then naturally, Bucky idolizes him.

 

Bucky’s smoking again when Natasha picks him up.  He flicks the butt to the ground, pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head, and hops in the passenger seat.  Natasha’s got the radio turned to the alternative rock station, and Bucky taps his fingers on his knee along to the beat.

 

"I saw you arguing with Steve earlier," Natasha says, and Bucky freezes.

 

"Goddamnit, Natasha," Bucky hisses.  "I don’t want to talk about it."

 

"I hope you’re not being an asshole to him, because even if you two have a fallout, Steve’s still my friend."

 

"I’m not - " Bucky says immediately, defensive, but then he falters, unsure.  "I’m not being an asshole, Nat."

 

"Are you sure?" she asks.

 

He sighs.  “Maybe, but it’s for the right reasons.”

 

Natasha shakes her head.  “Steve’s a good kid.  There’s no reason to treat him like shit.”

 

"I don’t," Bucky protests, mind flashing back to all the times he would shove himself in between Steve and another taller, bigger kid bearing down on him.  "I just - I need a little time."

 

"Alright," Natasha huffs.  "I’m going to trust you on this one, James.  Don’t let me down."

 

Natasha turns up the volume, and Bucky curls up into himself.  He leans his head against the window, staring out at the dimly lit street, feeling sick with guilt, stomach burning with self-hatred.  He just wants Steve to be happy, but it’s like he can’t win.

 

They have to park five houses down, and Bucky walks with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his hood still firmly over his head.  Natasha walks ahead of him, her gait clean and powerful.  Her hips swing and her hair tosses around her head.  She oozes confidence, and Bucky oozes _pathetic_.  He doesn’t really understand what she sees in him.  He’s a shitty person, but she insists he isn’t.  He guesses it’s just an occupational hazard of being cousins.

 

Inside, Tony’s house is pumping with music.  Bucky has to admit that Tony’s stereo system is the coolest thing he’s ever seen.  Tony designed it himself, and the best feature is the laser light show that’s programmed to flash along to the beat of the music.  It creates the best party atmosphere, but Bucky prefers the basement, where the drugs are.

 

"Are you going to stay up here?" Bucky asks, leaning close to Nat so she can hear.

 

She’s bobbing her head along to the song.  “I think I will.  I might grab a drink and chat, but I’ll meet you downstairs later.”

 

He nods.  “See ya then, Nat.”

 

He heads for the staircase, pulling down his hood.  He runs a hand through his hair, frowning a little at how greasy it is.  He meant to shower before the party, but he was too tired after school and fell asleep the second he collapsed into his bed.

 

It’s hazy downstairs, and Bucky welcomes the thick stench of weed.  He breathes in deeply, smiling with a familiar sense of relief.  Upstairs there’s a keg, and some people who’ve drifted up with joints, but down here, there’s beer, wine, vodka, rum, weed, ecstasy, LSD, and tons of prescription pills.  It’s a pure utopia.

 

Bucky finds Clint immediately and drops down next to him.  He’s smoking a bowl, and offers Bucky a hit.  He takes it without question, breathing in deep and welcoming the bitter taste.  He hands the bowl back to Clint and stretches out his legs.

 

Thor sits on the other side of Clint, and his creepy not-brother Loki is next to him, sulking as usual, but he still seems peaceful.  Bucky’s always had some weird soft spot for Loki.  He used to be uncomfortable around him, but since Loki’s suicide attempt last year, mostly Bucky’s just felt bad.  Loki doesn’t really seem to have friends, but Bucky doesn’t think of himself as a good candidate so he just kind of stays away.

 

The only other person Bucky recognizes is Jane Foster’s peculiar friend Darcy Lewis, sitting across from him with her eyes closed, humming along to a song that’s stuck in her head.  The rest of the people here are all regular stoners, people that have been doing drugs a lot longer than Bucky, who only started indulging himself when the self-hatred became too much to bear after the car accident.

 

Bucky continues to smoke with Clint, and Thor, and Loki, and Darcy, and anyone else who joins in the circle.  Mostly he talks with Clint, but he also strays to Thor and Loki.

 

Loki coughs after taking a long hit and turns to Bucky.

 

"Barnes," he manages to choke out.  "I haven’t seen you around this crowd much."

 

Bucky laughs, taking the bowl from him.  “Man, I was at your brother’s party last weekend.”  He inhales, feeling his body go weightless.  He’s taken several hits now.  Actually, he’s taken so many he’s lost count, and he doesn’t want to stop.

 

"I wasn’t around," Loki replies with a smirk that lets Bucky know there’s a whole story to be told.

 

"Loki?" Bucky asks, passing the bowl back to him.  "Can I tell you something?"

 

Loki huffs a laugh.  “Should I be frightened?”

 

"Nah, I just - I think you’re really cool, man," Bucky says.  "I think you’re a really cool guy, and I envy you."

 

He doesn’t add, “because you were brave enough to try to do something about your misery”, but he wants to.  He just doesn’t think their first conversation is the best time to start that kind of talk.

 

Loki just shakes his head.  “You’re insane, Barnes.”

 

When the bowl is gone, Loki takes him aside, pulling something out of his pocket.  Bucky looks down at Loki’s hand, sprouting from a pale, scarred wrist.  In his palm are what look like little strips of paper.

 

"Blotters," Loki says.  "LSD.  Do you want to try?"

 

Bucky’s stomach flutters with nerves, but he came here tonight to forget reality, and that’s what he’s going to do.  He takes a deep breath and gives his hands a shake.

 

"Yeah," he says.

 

Loki laughs again.  “Are you sure?”

 

Bucky nods, a littler overzealous.  “I’m sure.  Give it.”

 

Loki pulls a single piece off the strip and hands it over.  “You’re in for a good time, Barnes.”

 

Carefully, Bucky places the strip on his tongue per Loki’s instructions.  Once it kicks in, the night turns into a blur.  He follows Loki around like a lapdog, and encounters several freaky as fuck hallucinations.  Loki can’t stop laughing, and Bucky’s just happy he can make someone laugh by being scared by some psychedelic dragon.

 

They make it upstairs at some point, and Bucky eagerly accepts several drinks.  He’s not usually one to dance, but upon Loki’s encouragement, he dances his ass off.  At one point, Tony Stark himself comes over to congratulate Bucky.

 

After awhile, the buzz starts to die down.  He’s still hallucinating, but exhaustion is catching up with him, and a killer headache is throbbing behind his eyes. Bucky takes a seat in the corner, and as luck would have it, he sits down right next to Peggy without realizing.

 

"You’re having fun tonight," she says, and his heart almost jumps out of his throat.

 

"Oh, god," he gasps, placing a hand over his heart.  "You scared the shit out of me."

 

He turns to look at her, and his heart jumps.  Headlights are glaring at him, and in heartbeat, he’s lying on the ground, and Peggy is shouting at him.  He hears the screech of brakes and his heart stops.  There’s a crunch, and he can’t feel his arm.  His entire left side is covered in warm - no, cold.  Cold wetness.

 

Bucky gasps, shaking his head.

 

He looks around to find he’s in a bathroom, and Peggy’s just doused him in water.

 

"I’m sorry," she says as he heaves.  "I didn’t know how to calm you down."

 

He continues to breathe heavily, looking around wildly.  When his breathing has slowed, he pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his face in them.  Without a word, Peggy nestles in beside him.

 

"Bucky?" she asks tentatively.  "What happened?"

 

He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he knows he owes her for freaking out like that.

 

"I hallucinated," he answers honestly.  "But it was like - I relived the car accident."

 

"Hallucinated?" she asks, sounding extremely concerned.

 

"I took LSD," he whispers, ashamed to hear it coming from his mouth.  "Loki gave it to me."

 

Peggy curses under her breath.  “Bucky, why - why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

 

He laughs humorlessly, bitterly.  “Peggy, I just - I don’t want to live in reality.  It’s too fucking hard.”

 

"Buck - "

 

"I hate myself, Peggy.  I fucking _hate_ myself.  I’m a liar, and - and a thief, and I try to pretend like I have it all together, but I don’t.  I’m a disgrace to my family - “

 

"You don’t even know that, B - "

 

"Well, then I’m still a fucking coward because I can’t even tell them who I really am.  And god, I’m a shit-awful friend.  Like you and Nat are the only people who talk to me, and Steve, but Steve’s in love with somebody else - "

 

"Bucky - "

 

" - and I shouldn’t even care, but - "

 

_"Bucky."_

 

He shuts up at the tone of Peggy’s voice, surprised.

 

Peggy heaves a deep breath as she turns to face him.  “Bucky, look - I talked to Nat tonight.  I didn’t want to say anything unless someone else saw it too, but - Steve, well.  Steve was nearly devastated tonight, because he really wanted to spend time with you, and I think - Nat and I think he likes you.  The same way that you like him.”

 

Bucky just stares, completely caught off guard.  Part him of him wants to believe that that could be true, that Steve could be harboring feelings for him, but most of him knows that’s a lie.  (And even if he did, well, it’s not like anything would happen because Bucky would never come out and Steve deserves so much better).

 

"Bucky?"

 

He holds a hand up, closing his eyes.  “Please, Peggy.  Don’t lie to me.”

 

"I’m not ly - "

 

"Yes.  Yes, you are."

 

"James Barnes," Peggy huffs, and Bucky opens his eyes to see that there are tears in hers.  "You, out of everyone, should know that I wouldn’t lie about this."

 

Bucky pales, swallowing hard.

 

He does.  He does know.  Because Peggy’s been hopelessly in love with Steve for years, just like him, and if she knew anything about Steve being in love with Bucky, she should keep it to herself.  Except Bucky’s slowly trying to kill himself, and Peggy knows that Bucky would be better off if he let someone like Steve in to help him.

 

"Peggy, I just - I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I - "

 

He suddenly feels like he’s going to puke, and he propels himself upward.  He sways on his feet, but manages to stay upright, and then he’s hurrying from the bathroom, through the crowd of people and out the front door.  He collapses to the cement when he steps foot on the sidewalk, breathing hard and painfully.

 

His head is spinning and the light isn’t properly hitting his eyes and he’s so confused and he thinks the trees might be following him, but he walks.  He walks and continues to walk, putting as much space between him and the party as possible.

 

Halfway to his destination (once he realizes he has one) he figures he probably should have found Nat and gotten a ride, but he’s already halfway there, and it’s too late to go back now.  He doesn’t know what time it is now, but it’s dark, and the city is quiet.  It’s hard to find the right building, but years of practice lead him to the fire escape.

 

It’s hard climbing when his brain feels like mush and he keeps seeing tigers in his way, but somehow, he makes it up to the window.  Surprisingly enough, Steve is waiting for him.

 

"Bucky, what the hell are you doing?" he hisses.

 

Bucky swallows hard, leaning on the railing to hold himself up.

 

"Well, I - I fucked up, Steve."

 

Steve blinks, looking more closely at Bucky.  “What did you do?”

 

"I - I took LSD," he says, swallowing hard again, but the bile in his throat is relentless.  "And I smoked, and I drank, and hallucinated really fucking bad and I think I might have had a seizure, but I don’t know."

 

"Jesus Christ," Steve mutters.

 

He sighs heavily and then swings himself out the window.  Carefully, he slides underneath one of Bucky’s arms and leads him to the window.  “Duck, Bucky,” he orders.  “Put one leg inside.  Yep - just like.  Straddle the windowsill.  Oh - keep your head down.  Now, the other leg.   Yep - good.  Okay, now can you lean against the wall or something well I hop back inside?”

 

Bucky listens, breathing heavily and trying not to vomit all over the floor.

 

Once Steve is safely inside, he shuts the window and turns to Bucky.  He rubs a soothing hand on Bucky’s back, watching him breathe.

 

"Steve," he says quietly.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"I’m, uh - yeah, I’m gonna be sick."

 

Quickly, Steve leads him out of the bedroom and into the bathroom across the hall.  Bucky falls to his knees as quickly as he can and throws up into the toilet bowl.  Steve's beside him in a second, pulling his long hair back and keeping it away from his face so the vomit stays clear of his hair.  When Bucky’s finished, he lays his head down, pressing his cheek against the seat.  Steve continues to play with his hair, massaging his scalp.

 

"I’m sorry, Steve," he groans.

 

Steve lets go of his hair, heaving a deep sigh.

 

"Bucky," he starts, but immediately stops, pressing his lips tightly together.  Bucky lifts his head slightly to look at him.  "Bucky, I don’t know why you do this."

 

"Steve - " Bucky pleads.

 

"No," Steve replies immediately, firm.  "You’re going to kill yourself Bucky, and I’m not going to stand by and watch anymore."

 

Bucky sits up straight, staring at Steve while panic thrums in his veins.  “Steve, what are you saying?”

 

Steve shakes his head and takes a deep breath.  “I don’t know, Bucky, I just - I can’t deal with this kind of stuff anymore.  Especially when you don’t treat me like I matter in return.  I - I love you, Bucky, I do.  And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but you’ve changed, and I - I don’t feel like I know you anymore.  It scares me.”

 

"No, no, no - " Bucky starts, choking on the words.  "Steve, please.  I care about you so much, I just - "

 

"What?" Steve asks.  "Bucky, what?"

 

He heaves a shaky breath.  “I’m afraid I don’t deserve you.”

 

Steve blinks, evidently confused.  “Bucky?  You’ve looked after me my whole life.  Of course you deserve me.  We’re best friends, Buck.”

 

Bucky nods, refusing to look at Steve.  “You’re - you’re a good person, Steve.  But me - I’m not.”

 

"Bucky, don’t say that," Steve whispers.

 

"It’s true," Bucky argues.

 

"Bucky, stop," Steve says, firmer.

 

"Steve, I don’t know," Bucky says quietly.

 

"What don’t you know?" Steve urges, laying a gentle hand on Bucky’s shoulder, but Bucky shrugs it off.

 

"I can’t do this," Bucky says quickly and tries to hurriedly push himself up.  He’s not quiet fast enough, and Steve pushes him back down.

 

"Bucky, you don’t get to decide what my feelings are," he says seriously.  "And you don’t get to do this to yourself, either.  Listen to me.  You’re going to sober up, you’re going to stop hanging out with people like Loki Odinson - yeah, Peggy told me - "

 

After that, Bucky tunes out, anger flaring up inside him.  Everyone is ganging up on him, talking behind his back.  Maybe Peggy was just lying to him earlier for the hell of it.  Maybe Steve’s messing with him now.

 

"You need to stop hurting yourself, Bucky, or I - I don’t know.  I can’t.  I can’t do this anymore."

 

Bucky scoffs, looking Steve in the eye.  “ _You_ can’t do this anymore?  Fuck you.”

 

He leaves without another word, stalking past Steve.  He opens the window in one quick motion and hops out.  He thinks about going down the fire escape again, but for some reason he goes up before Steve can see him.  He flies by window after window until he reaches the roof, and that’s where he falls to the rocky tar, sobs ripping through him.

 

He’s a mess.  A huge, fucking mess.

 

He’s throwing away his friendship with Steve, and he knows it.  The worst part?  Some sick part of him doesn’t even care.  He knows Steve would be better off without him, and now Steve realizes it too.  he just needs that last push.

 

Bucky doesn’t know how long he sits up there, sobbing into the darkness, but eventually, he reaches some kind of peace and clarity.  The crying stops, and suddenly, his options are laid out in front of him, and this is what he knows about his life: the only person who could still care about him is his cousin - out of family obligations; he’s been fucking Peggy Carter as some kind of gross cross between consolation and self-punishment, and she’s probably actually worried sick about him while he wallows in self-pity; his best friend and the guy he’s ridiculously in love with is ready to leave his life, and Bucky can’t deal with that.

 

Slowly, Bucky stands up.

 

The tar crunches under his feet as he walks across the roof.  Up here, the night air is cold, and breezes blow his hair around his face.  His cheeks and nose sting with the chill, but it doesn’t bother him.  Lights gaze up at him, and he walks right to the edge of the building, his toes lined up with the outside of the brick.

 

He’s twelve stories up, and he knows he wouldn’t survive the fall.

 

His heart beats wildly in his chest, as if it knows its beats are numbered.  He clenches his fists, the real, and the robotic.  The night of the car crash comes rushing back, and Bucky wills himself to take that one step forward.

 

His right foot inches, unsure.  Tears are streaming down his face, but Bucky refuses to back down.

 

He lifts his knee up, fully prepared, and - he falls backward, back onto the roof, pushing himself backward with his elbows and his heels.  He trembles as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone.  Shaking uncontrollably, he dials the number and waits for the answer.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Nat, I need you to come get me."

 

_

 

Steve doesn’t talk to him for three weeks.

 

It’s probably for the best, because during that time, Bucky sees a psychiatrist six times.  On his second visit, he’s prescribed Zoloft for Major Depression, and he starts taking it the next day.  It hasn’t fully kicked in yet, but talking does help.

 

Natasha had had to help him off the roof.  They’d taken the elevator, and Natasha had walked him out to the car, and the entire time he continued crying.  It had taken him a half hour to calm down and tell Natasha what he had almost done.

 

She had wasted no time in calling his parents.

 

No one else knows, not even Steve, because well, they haven’t talked in three weeks.

 

It’s Friday when Steve says “Hi” to him in Lit.  Bucky smiles and says “Hi” back.  They don’t talk the rest of the day, and Bucky goes out to the bleachers with Natasha as usual and smokes.  Just cigarettes.  Only cigarettes now.

 

Two weeks after that, Bucky can smile with ease, and his chest doesn’t feel so tight.  He strikes up a conversation with Sam in European History, and Sam doesn’t hesitate at all.  They casually mention Steve, and Sam invites him to sit with them at lunch the following day.

 

The following day, Bucky takes him up on that offer.  It’s a relief, sitting with them, and both Nat and Peggy join them, smiling as they look between Bucky and Steve.

 

After school, Bucky receives a text.

 

**Steve**

_Do you want to hang out with Sam and me this weekend?_

 

Bucky texts back.

 

**Bucky**

_that depends.  are we having a call of duty tournament, and are you planning to kick my ass? if so, yes.  if not, yes._

**Steve**

_Um, I’m definitely planning to kick your ass, Barnes._

 

Bucky’s smile splits his face.                                                                              

 

_

 

Bucky shows up a little after dinner, but Mrs. Wilson tries to give him food anyway.  He laughs off the offers, promising he’s full, and she lets him escape to the basement where Sam and Steve have set everything up.

 

 Steve looks up when he enters the room, smiling widely.

 

"Hey, Buck."

 

"Hey."

 

They stare at each other for a little too long, snapping out of it only when Sam clears his throat loudly.

 

"Um - I got your usual spot for you, Bucky," Steve says, turning away and rubbing the back of his neck.

 

As Steve sets up the game, Bucky slides into the armchair, feeling like he’s just come home after a long, long vacation.  The chair still smells like Steve, and it’s perfectly broken into the shape of both their bodies, even though it belongs to Sam.  Bucky nestles in more comfortably, suddenly feeling emotional, but he fights it because Steve turns around and takes his own spot.

 

Ultimately, Sam wins, but it doesn’t really matter to Bucky.  He’s with his friends again, and that’s the only thing he cares about.

 

Steve and Sam get talking, then yelling, faux-fighting each other.  Bucky smiles, and he wants to laugh, but an odd rush of emotions falls over him and he suddenly excuses himself, running off to the bathroom.

 

Both Steve and Sam look after him curiously, and Bucky knows it, so he locks the door.  It doesn’t take long before Steve knocks and rattles the knob.

 

"Bucky?" he asks.  "Are you okay?"

 

Honestly, he doesn’t know.  He just feels weird.  There’s a nagging feeling inside of him that needs relief.  So, not entirely sure this is what he needs, Bucky lets Steve in.

 

"Bucky?"

 

"I need to tell you something," Bucky says quietly.  "Close the door."

 

Steve listens, concerned.  He steps back to Bucky expectantly, watching him with a worried expression.

 

Bucky closes his eyes, letting his head hang.  His throat is tight, but he feels so off, and he just - he needs Steve to know.  He needs Steve to understand why he was so messed up, and why he’s been quiet these past few weeks.  He doesn’t like keeping this secret from him, even if it’s a hard secret to admit.

 

"Steve, I - " he swallows hard.  "I almost killed myself.  I almost - I almost walked off the roof of your building.  I wanted to so badly, but I didn’t."

 

Without warning, Steve throws his arms around Bucky, holding him close.  Bucky hugs back, and he can’t help it - he breaks down.  His shoulders shake violently, and he can’t breathe, but Steve holds him through it.

 

"Thank you for telling me, Bucky," Steve says once he’s calm, and Bucky pulls back, looking at him curiously.

 

"Did you know?"

 

Steve nods.  “I made Nat tell me.  I’m sorry, I know it was something I should’ve waited for.  I should’ve let you tell me, but I was worried sick, and I thought you were going to do something, and Nat told me you were already getting help, and I asked if you had already done something to warrant that, and she didn’t answer, so I - well, I knew then.”

 

"Did you know it was that night?" Bucky asks warily.  "Your building?"

 

Steve shakes his head, licking his lips as tears make their way down his cheek.  Bucky wants to cry again, too, but he doesn’t think he has the energy.

 

"No, I didn’t - I didn’t know those, uh - details," Steve admits.  He sniffs and wipes at his eyes.  "God, Bucky.  Just - tell me the truth," he pleads.  "Are you okay now?"

 

"Yes," Bucky says without hesitation.

 

"Would you tell me if you weren’t?"

 

"Yes."

 

Steve nods, breathing deeply.  “Buck - why?  Why would you even think about doing that?”

 

Bucky’s head starts spinning at the thought of even answering that, and he takes a seat, collapsing on top of the closed toilet.  He runs his fingers through his hair and rubs his face, trying to make sense of the thoughts that are running through his brain.

 

"I hated myself, Steve," he whispers.  "So much.  Ever since the accident, I - I don’t know.  And then - then I turned to drugs and I fucked everything up and I pushed you away, and you were going to leave, and I - I couldn’t do it anymore Steve, knowing I’d driven you to that point.”

 

"Bucky," Steve whispers, eyes glistening with tears.  "Bucky, I wasn’t - you’re my best friend."

 

"And that too," Bucky whispers brokenly.  "That wasn’t enough for me, Steve."

 

"Wh - "

 

"I’ve been such a goddamn coward," Bucky hisses.  He shakes his head and looks down, concentrating on the floor.    He takes a deep, shuddering breath.  "Steve, I - I’m - I’m in love with you, and I’ve been so terrified of coming out to anyone, that I couldn’t - I couldn’t - "

 

And just like the hug, Steve comes out of nowhere, straddling Bucky’s legs, hands clutching Bucky’s face and lips pressing against Bucky’s mouth.  It takes Bucky a second to register what’s happening, and then he’s not wasting any time.  He kisses Steve back eagerly, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and pulling him into his lap.

 

When they pull apart, all Bucky can say is, “Holy shit.”

 

He lifts his head to look at Steve, opens his mouth to say something, but is rudely interrupted by a knock on the door and Sam’s voice saying, “Um, guys - you okay in there?”

 

They both burst out laughing, leaning into each other.

 

Steve smiles down at him when the sound dies away and says, “If you were wondering, I’m in love with you too.  I have been for a long time.”

 

Without a single care in the world, Bucky pulls him back down.


End file.
